wfn.org | At the roots of Methodism: Wesley knew how to beat old age

[NewsDesk <NewsDesk@UMCOM.UMC.ORG>]

Feb. 24, 1999        Contact: Tim Tanton*(615)742-5470*Nashville, Tenn.
10-71B{101}

NOTE: This is a regular feature on Methodist history by John Singleton
prepared especially for distribution by United Methodist News Service.

By John Singleton*

John Wesley's answer to the onset of old age was to ignore it for as long as
he possibly could. And whatever the 18th century equivalent of ageism might
have been -- Wesley had no time for it, either by word or example.

On his 71st birthday, he wrote: "How is this, that I find just the same
strength as I did 35 years ago? That my sight is considerably better now,
and my nerves firmer, than they were then? That I have none of the
infirmities of old age, and have lost several I had in my youth?"

The founder of Methodism put it all down to rising at 4 a.m. every day for
some 50 years; his generally preaching at 5 a.m. -- "one of the most healthy
exercises in the world" -- and never traveling less than  4,500 miles in a
year.

At the age of 80, he declared: "God grant that I may not live to be
useless."

On his 84th birthday, he went so far as to admit that he could no longer run
or walk as fast as he once could. "But I do not feel any such thing as
weariness, whether in traveling or preaching." And, almost as if to prove
it, he preached six times within the next two days. That same year, he also
walked the streets of London for a week, asking money for the poor.

And even when his strength did begin to fail and he was forced to admit, "I
am now an old man, decayed from head to foot," he was still able to add
defiantly: "I can preach and write still."

On his last birthday, at age 87, Wesley sounds a philosophical, if not
entirely optimistic, note: "I feel no pain, only it seems nature is
exhausted and, humanly speaking, will sink more and more, till 'the weary
springs of life stand still at last.' "

Those who saw the great man during those final years are said to have
remarked on the "extraordinary beauty" of his face, with its fresh
complexion, clear smooth forehead, and eyes bright and piercing. When he
walked the street, with long white hair falling to his shoulders, children
are said to have run and clung to him, and strangers caught and kissed his
hand.

Whenever he preached, he was invariably helped into the pulpit, where, "in
age and feebleness extreme," he would tell the simple story of the cross of
Jesus.

An eye-witness gives us an insight into a visit by Wesley to the town of
Bradshaw in Yorkshire, England, in 1790. When he arrived in his horse-drawn
chaise from Haworth, the crowded congregation - which had been patiently
waiting in and around the church for three hours -- was so touched by the
sight of him that people immediately burst into tears. Wesley was assisted
up the pulpit steps by two ministers, who also "prompted" him from time to
time -- usually by whispering in his ear, or passing him slips of paper with
his "leading thoughts" written on them.

His last open-air sermon was preached the same year under an ash tree
outside the parish church in Winchelsea, Sussex, on England's south coast. A
plaque marks the spot and gives directions to another little-known "Wesley's
Chapel" nearby. Inside the beautiful little chapel is a pulpit from which
Wesley had regularly preached.

Wesley kept on writing to the last. One of his final services to the world
was to write to the English statesman William Wilberforce to encourage him
in his struggle for the emancipation of slaves -- a cause to which
Wilberforce had been inspired by the founder of Methodism. "Go on in the
name of God and the power of his might, till even American slavery, the
vilest that ever saw the sun, shall vanish," he wrote.

The following day -- March 2, 1791 -- John Wesley died.

In order to prevent overcrowding and accidents at the funeral, Wesley was
laid in his grave at Wesley's Chapel, London, between 5 and 6 a.m. This was
appropriate because it was the hour at which, for 50 years, he had preached
almost every day. It was a simple funeral, as he had desired -- no hearse,
no coach, no pomp. 

When the officiating clergyman came to the words, "For as much as it hath
pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our
dear brother," he paused a moment and, with a break in his voice, read
"father" instead of "brother."

# # #

*Singleton is assistant editor of the weekly Methodist Recorder in London,
England. He can be contacted by e-mail on editorial@methodistrecorder.co.uk.

______________
United Methodist News Service
http://www.umc.org/umns/
newsdesk@umcom.umc.org
(615)742-5472